Preston is always resistant at first, but then my body speaks to his, and he falls in line.
My voice lowers, dark enough to make him shiver. “This feel good?”
Slap.
Preston’s head drops, banging on the door as he lets out a grunt, his fingers curling against the door.
“I asked if this feels good. Answer me.”
“Yeah…”
“How good?”
“Just…good.”
I stroke his ass, admiring the way his skin reflects my handprints.
“You wear my marks so well, baby, you know that?”
I strike him four consecutive times, and he releases these blabbering noises, his cock standing to attention. “Yes, fuck…please…”
“Your precum is dripping on the floor.” I wrap a hand around his cock, squeezing roughly. “What a fucking mess.”
“Mff…yes, fuck, just…”
“Just?” I slap the side of his ass cheek.
“Unghh…”
“That’s not a word. You need to tell me what you want.”
“J-jerk me off. I want to come.”
My lips curl in appreciation. I love that he doesn’t hesitate to ask for what he wants now. At least he’s not trying to pretend these rendezvous mean nothing.
“Like this?” I slap him as I tug on his cock, and he jerks up, going to his tiptoes.
“Yes, yes, like that. I’m so close…”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah…I’m coming—fuck, why did you stop?”
I bite the shell of his ear. “I told you, didn’t I? Next time I see you, I’ll make your ass red and your cock hard, but I won’t let you come.”
“You fucking bastard…” He grunts and reaches a hand to his cock, but I keep it in a death grip, pressing my thumb against the tip.
“Don’t even try. I can make it hurt some more.”
“Fuck you.”
“Not today.”
I pull down my overalls, exposing my boxer briefs, and rub my engorged cock against his bruised ass cheeks.
He moans gruffly as I release a hum. Even with my briefs in the way, I can feel the intoxicating heat emanating off his skin.
And I’m drunk on the feeling.
